


Rain in the Sahara

by littlebluewhalen



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Best Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Realizations, Songfic, Well - Freeform, fuck elvis presley but like this song slaps, i dont know what this turned into, i was going to add something else to this but was watching drag race and it slipped my mind, it has no real substance, may update later?, the ballad cover version of it does anyway, this was another abstract description exercise, to love selflessly.... how wonderful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:35:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21772300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlebluewhalen/pseuds/littlebluewhalen
Summary: To find serendipity in the comfort of another, to be lost in the love that consumes you. It's all very human, isn't it?
Relationships: Maka Albarn/Soul Eater Evans
Kudos: 32





	Rain in the Sahara

_Cause your kisses take me higher  
Like the sweet song of the choir_

Soul grumbled as his alarm rang shrilly in the stillness of the morning, his arm fluidly flying out from under his covers to slap his phone off.

“Soul, get up! I made breakfast and if you don’t move it soon, we’re going to be late!” Soul’s second alarm called from the depths of their apartment, and he groaned, a hand sliding down his face. He took another moment to himself and let out a sigh, relaxing into the comfort of his mattress, before violently flinging himself out of bed. He was getting up but he was going to anyway, not because Maka said ‘we’ instead of ‘you’, it’s not like he cared if she was late because of him, even though she could just leave on her own (she’d never leave Soul). Being on time wasn’t cool. 

He trudged out of his room slowly, pocketing his phone and forcing himself to keep his eyes open, the smell of eggs and bacon wafting to his nose. He blinked his eyes open as he walked into the kitchen, taking a few seconds to himself to admire his meister before she noticed him.  
She was already in her school clothes – because of course she was – but she was humming a song that was vaguely familiar to him and he admired the way she did even the most basic tasks with grace. He watched her dish out the eggs and bacon onto two separate plates, and he noticed how much more she put onto his plate and ignored the swelling of his heart.

“No need to yell, ya know. I do have alarms.” He broke the silence suddenly and pretended to not be saddened when her humming stopped and she jumped slightly, turning around with the plates and setting them down on their kitchen table. 

“Yeah, you won’t actually get up unless you hear my voice though, even if it’s just to shut me up.” She joked, motioning for him to sit down. He sat down across from her and dug in immediately, any conversation dying with the first bite of food.  
“Eat quickly, you still need to get dressed. You did the homework, right?” Maka prattled on as she ate, mainly just trying to get on his nerves because that’s just what she did. She smirked as he rolled his eyes at her. He swallowed before responding.

“Yeah yeah, Tiny Tits, I did it. And I don’t take forever to get dressed, so don’t worry about that.” He snarked back, but maybe, just maybe he wolfed down his breakfast just a bit faster. In no time at all, they were finished and she collected their dishes, shooing him to his bedroom to get changed. He pulled on clothes that were probably clean, grabbed his backpack and the assignment that he completed because he wanted to (and definitely not because Maka had asked him to do better in school because his grades reflected her, too) and walked with his meister to his motorcycle. 

It was something they did every day, yet he could never quite quell the feeling that arose in his stomach every time she straddled the bike behind him and wrapped her arms around him tightly. It was silly, he knew; they trusted each other with their lives, so implicitly, so completely, that he shouldn’t be surprised when she hangs onto him like he’s the only thing holding her to the ground. But she did, and she always would, as long as he was here for her.  
So, always and forever.

Soul shook his head lightly; he really needed to be focusing on the road in front of him, not the girl behind him. Not even as she buried her face in his back and nuzzled into his jacket. He knew it was because the cold wind clipped her face, but for a moment, maybe he could pretend that she was in love with him too. But that was uncool, really. 

_You light my morning sky  
With burning love_

It was when she threw herself in front of him that he realized. He’d been injured in weapon form and he’d phased back to being human, and she recklessly, selflessly, threw herself in front of the oncoming attack. It was stupid and he didn’t understand it for a second; he was the weapon. His job was to protect her; to sacrifice himself if necessary. She knew this, yet she still tried to protect him. She was ready to die for him like he was her, and in a split second, it clicked, and warmth flooded his very being. 

She cared for him.

Not him as her scythe, not him as a weapon; she cared about him, Soul Eater Evans. She didn’t want to lose him. 

All in the span of a second, he thrust himself back into being a scythe and forced himself in her hands, taking the brunt of the attack, his blade being fortified by feelings he didn’t understand yet.  
They defeated the demon and once he transformed into his human form, she looked over him, looking for injuries. He said nothing, he didn’t even try to fight her; he watched her closely, watching as she tried to ward off the emotions from splaying across her face. His heart felt so full that he might burst and he didn’t know why; what could he understand of love if he’d always received so little of it?  
But that was just Maka, wasn’t it? She was always so kind and loving and selfless in every act she performed, and she had never once relegated him to just her weapon.  
Soul was never good with words; never had been and never would be, probably. So he simply pushed his way into the kitchen once they got home, despite it being her night to cook, and he whipped up one of his special spicy curry dinners, one of her favorites. If she thought anything was off, she didn’t voice it, and he was grateful for it.  
He was grateful for her.

_Lord Almighty,  
I feel my temperature rising  
Higher higher  
It's burning through to my soul_

There was a time where they hid things from the other – out of a foolish desire to protect the other – where their souls didn’t resonate and it hurt to be with each other. But that was a long, long time ago. Now, they felt each other’s every whim and desire, they could almost read each other’s minds, they knew each other intimately.  
Soul kept only one thing guarded, and those were his feelings for her. She never tried to prod at that locked-away part of his soul with her ability; she respected him and his privacy, and she never felt slighted in the least.

Soul couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have her, and he only wished that, on some level, she would feel the same way; that she couldn’t live without him. Maka was to Soul as water is to a fish, or carbon is to trees, or air is to his own lungs. Her essence, her own soul, her heart were all things he needed to keep moving, to keep living. Without her, he wasn’t sure if he would live to see another day; and was any day really worth seeing if it wasn’t eclipsed by the beauty of simply her? 

No, Soul thought; he had lived those days before, and he’d never want to live it again. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he thought that maybe his reasons for being so ready to sacrifice himself for her was for that selfish reason, too.  
He would go wherever she went. No matter what role he played in her life, he just needed to be with her. His life was entirely hinged on her own, and he knew that to a lesser extent, she felt the same. She had never tried to find another weapon, not even as a backup; he knew that, if she lost him, she might try to find another weapon, but as she’d said herself before – “There’s nothing but Soul”.  
He wanted to hold her close and breathe her in and drown in her, but the most he could settle on was having her hug him close on the back of a motorbike, and he would take it any day.

_Please won't you help me  
I feel like I'm slipping away  
It's hard to breathe  
And my chest is a-heaving_

“Soul,” her whisper was the sun in the morning sky, the rain during a drought, a prayer to the dying man.

“Please…” her breath trailed off, lilted in her own desire. 

His burning red eyes opened slightly, if just to watch her.  
She was settled on his lap, her legs on either side of his, and he held her close (as if he’d ever let her go); one hand trailed up and down her side, sending shivers up her spine, as his lips traced patterns into the bare expanse of her neck.

It was stupid, he knew, but he was so incredibly giddy that she trusted him enough to have his razor-sharp teeth by her most vulnerable places. They trusted each other with each other’s lives, and he’d sooner off himself than do anything to ever hurt her, but it was a little instance of the fact that, yes, she loved him like he loved her, deeply, intensely, inevitably. 

“Please what?” He asked, teasingly. Her hair was mussed and her eyes were glazed and he watched as her lips pulled themselves into a frown, and god how he loved her.

“Soul,” She whined, pushing herself further into his lap, pushing her chest to his, winding her hands into the silver-gray hair she loved so much, tugging just a bit. He grinned at her and left a light kiss on her lips, one after the other, making her melt. 

“I love you.” She whispered in his ear, and his hands stalled, only momentarily.  
He buried his face in her shoulder and squeezed her tightly; she knows what those words did to him.  
To think that she saw something in him, when no one ever has before, when even he doesn’t see anything in himself; he still didn’t understand it, but by god he was never going to do anything to jeopardize it. If he could be selfish just once, it was going to be with her love.

Maka had been hurt over and over and over again by the very people who are supposed to love you. Her mom had abandoned her, her dad had betrayed her trust countless times, and she had closed her heart to anyone who tried to get close. But he had somehow made an impact on her; through nothing but love and protection and trust and kindness, he had shown her the light of loving someone, the light of trusting and existing and being alive. 

He didn’t – he couldn’t – understand what she saw in someone he knew to be empty and broken, but she saw something, buried beneath his layers, peeled back on show only for her. Soul was eternally grateful for her in ways that he never knew he could be. He was precariously close to walking off the sandbar he was stranded on, drowning forever, but he would do it if only she told him to.

“What are you thinking about right now?” Her tone was accusatory and it pulled him back to this moment; here she was, literally on top of him, and he was miles away in his own mind, thinking about her. He said nothing, and simply fell back on the couch, pulling her on top of him as he fell, and he hooked his arms tightly around her waist, kissing her a million times over, because it would never be enough. 

_Burning, burning, burning  
And nothing can cool me  
I just might turn into smoke  
But I feel fine_


End file.
